


The occasion of catching things that fall

by Raehimura



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: A tiny amount of Gavin who is mostly there to get shoved into a wall, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, First Kiss, Getting Together, I've been down in this hole before and I know the way out, Insecurity, Loss of Control, M/M, Pining, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), very short suicide scene of oc side character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 04:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20429261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raehimura/pseuds/Raehimura
Summary: In the middle of tense negotiations over the Android Rights bill, androids are suddenly going berserk and attacking their loved ones. Hank and Connor, freshly minted partners and the nation's first android-human law enforcement initiative, must figure out what's affecting these androids and put a stop to it before it derails the tenuous peace - or leads to a second android war.Why are these androids effected? And is it really just them? More importantly, what will Connor do if he succumbs to the symptoms before they solve the case?





	The occasion of catching things that fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jennilah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennilah/gifts).

> Written to go along with the lovely and talented Jennilah's amazing art, which you can see [here.](https://jennilah.tumblr.com/post/187341466281/the-occasion-of-catching-things-that)

_ “Up next, join us for a panel discussion about the latest negotiations over the Android Liberation, Indemnity, and Voting Enfranchisement Act, known as the ALIVE Act. House and Senate leaders are meeting behind closed doors as we speak to discuss another round of concessions that might overcome the anti-android hardliners and move the bill forward. Meanwhile, android representatives are set to begin their fifth straight day of testimony before the joint committee. We’ve got all the latest details and analysis from our experts, coming up next …” _

Connor tuned out the TV as the news moved into commercials, finishing off his tie with practiced tugs. It wasn’t strictly required at work anymore, but he liked the comforting formality of it. Of course, Hank still teased him mercilessly for it, to which Connor had responded by occasionally surprising him with the worst patterned ties he could find. 

Today, he’d chosen a bright blue tie with little cartoon dog faces on it. When Hank had first seen it, he’d guffawed so loud that Sumo had boofed back. It had been a good morning.

A thump from the bathroom announced Hank was almost done with his sleepy morning ritual, and Connor couldn’t contain his smile as he came around the corner grumbling, trying fruitlessly to straighten his ridiculously loud shirt.

Hank nodded toward the screen, now showing a commercial for a new autonomous car. “So what do you think?”

Connor hummed, moving around Hank easily as they grabbed badges and guns (and the lunch Connor forced him to pack). “About the android rights bill?”

“Yeah. I mean, it looks like they’re having a little trouble up on Capitol Hill.”

They _were_ having trouble. The process was complex and stymied at every turn by human bias. It felt less like an inevitability, and more like a miracle that they could come to any kind of agreement. But as the former deviant hunter, it was hardly Connor’s place to speak for his fellow androids, even if Markus had invited him.

“I think I’ll leave it for Markus and the others to handle,” he said. “I trust them to get it done for all of us. And besides, I have my own job to worry about.”

Connor shot Hank an exaggerated wink. “Partner.”

Hank laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah yeah, let’s get to work then, rookie.”

Connor felt a pleased flush run through his chest. Every smile and laugh from Hank still felt like a victory. Hank had done so much for him since the end of the revolution, taking him into his home, advocating for his job at the DPD, and exposing him to all kinds of new experiences. Connor’s life was so wildly different that with all his processing power and preconstruction software, he never could have imagined it. He was so grateful he could burst with the new emotions.

But gratitude wasn’t the only new emotion Connor had to adjust to post-deviancy. Fear had been the first, through that long night of the revolution. Followed closely by rage at CyberLife and Amanda and their attempts to use him. And now, worry.

He’d never really felt anxiety before. He’d been concerned about his mission, about whether they could succeed. He’d known what could happen to him if he failed, and maybe he’d felt a small shudder of fear, but he hadn’t been able to dwell. And, of course, he hadn’t wanted anything to happen to Hank, but he also hadn’t let himself imagine the alternative.

Now, though, he was apparently quite capable of worry. He worried about the future of androids. He worried about his place in human society. He worried about Hank. A lot.

He worried that maybe he’s faking his deviancy, his personhood, every time his actions or thoughts jarred against human expectations. If he didn’t feel enough, wasn’t “human” enough, then what was the point to deviancy in the first place? What was the point in all they’d fought for? So many people he cared about had done so much for androids and for him. He had to make it all worth it.

And worse, what if it was just him? What if Connor was the only one who wasn’t enough? The infamous deviant hunter, constitutionally incapable of experiencing all the things that made deviancy worthwhile. Just the kind of sick joke CyberLife might pull.

Being with Hank made it easier to ignore the doubts. Hank who had given him so much, who believed in his autonomy before he even believed it himself. Who was so wonderfully human and insisted on treating Connor as human too, in all the ways that really counted. He was so grateful for all of it and hoped he was giving something back to Hank in his own struggles.

Connor was careful not to think too much about what else he might like to give Hank, if he only asked. The last thing Hank needed right now was an overly amorous android mistaking friendship for romance.

They arrived at the DPD a few minutes before their shift and were accosted almost before they got through the door. The Chief wanted to see them. That wasn’t unusual. Detroit had been slowly piecing itself back together as androids settled into new lives and the humans who had evacuated returned in fits and bursts. With so much upheaval and no clear indication from the government of what the future would look like, the DPD had been busier than ever just putting out fires and managing some semblance of keeping the peace.

Suffice it to say, the number of urgent orders coming Hank and Connor’s way hadn’t slowed for a moment since the revolution. That didn’t stop Hank from complaining.

“What is it now, Jeffery?” He grouched as they shuffled into his office, increasingly covered in wayward paperwork as the weeks went on. “You’ve already got us helping out the damn traffic cops running the relocation lines. You gonna loan us out to the damn feds next, have us keeping protestors from killing each other?”

Fowler rolled his eyes with remarkable patience, given the chaos they’d all been living through. “No, Anderson, I thought I’d be generous and let you do your damn job for once.”

Hank perked up at that. “We caught a case?”

“A big one. You know how things have been going to hell around here?” An understatement, but Connor kept that to himself. “Well, some of our data analyst guys have put together a trend out of the recent spike of violence. They don’t think it’s just regular unrest. There’s some kind of pattern connecting several recent cases, and we’ve already got human and android casualties. So we need to make sure there’s not some serial killer or god forbid terrorists taking advantage of the chaos.”

Hank sat back, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Shit.”

Fowler’s eyes turned piercing, brows flat like a disappointed father. “I trust I don’t have to tell you how important this case is and how shitty the timing. I’ve got Congressmen and the FBI and the Governor’s people blowing up my phone telling me to get this sorted before it gets national attention and derails the whole damn android rights bill.”

“That political pressure got anything to do with why you’re giving us this case?” Hank quipped.

Fowler responded with full Official Captain voice. “You two are assigned to this case because you’re two of my best detectives, even with Connor’s lack of field experience, and because I trust you to get this done quietly and by the book.” 

Then he broke, scowling pointedly as Hank just smirked. “And yes, it doesn’t hurt to have the country’s first human-android law enforcement partnership working a sensitive case.”

Connor cut Hank off before he could gloat, assuring sincerely, “We’ll do our best, Captain.”

“Just stop these attacks so I can stop getting yelled at by Washington assholes.”

They stood to leave, but Fowler stopped them on their way out. He looked tired, like the overtime they’d all been working was finally catching up to him. “The world’s on fire. Don’t do anything to make it worse.”

***

Back in the bullpen, it was eerily quiet. Most of the officers were out in the streets no matter the time these days, and those at their desks were nursing exhaustion from multiple 12-hour shifts. Even Gavin had been worn down to, if not companionable silence, at least silence.

Connor settled at his terminal to download the case files, taking a moment to smile at the one personal item on his desk: A “No Skin, Not Kin” mug he’d co-opted from Hank’s collection. Hank had balked when he’d asked to keep it, but Connor got a little thrill from drinking his thirium from a mug that hated him, and the constipated look on Gavin’s face was more than worth it.

It took him less than a minute to download the information, and a few more to compile it, while Hank flipped through the report on the most recent victim. A human, Ann Greenwald, 43, had barely survived an attack from the PJ500 unit living with her. She sustained multiple broken bones and lacerations from a kitchen knife. The android hadn’t survived the encounter.

They headed straight to the hospital, its stark white halls familiar in a way that made Connor shiver. Ann was laid up in bed, arm in a sling and body largely covered in fresh bandages, her face a collage of purpling bruises. She barely looked up when they entered.

“Ms. Greenwald, I’m Hank and this is Connor,” Hank introduced them softly. “We’re detectives from the DPD, here to ask you a few questions.”

She flinched when she heard they were police, but then her eyes focused on Connor’s face and she seemed to soften. That wasn’t the usual reaction to his LED, but anything that could keep the victim calm was an advantage. Connor edged around Hank to sit carefully on the edge of her bed.

With his best sympathetic look, he asked softly, “Can you tell us exactly what happened?”

“I didn’t … I didn’t want to hurt her,” she started shakily, voice raspy, likely from crying. “I love her. I just didn’t know what to do. I don’t know what happened, what I did wrong …” 

Tears spilled over from her puffy, bruised eyes as she struggled to swallow the sobs. Connor put a hand over hers on the smooth hospital sheets.

“It’s alright, Ann. Take your time and just tell us what happened.”

“She just - she just went crazy,” she struggled to explain through her tears. “She’d been anxious the last few days, but I thought it was just all this news about the bill. Everyone’s been so worried, you know? And then this morning she just freaked out and started yelling, and she was so scared, and I thought I could talk to her and tell her everything was okay, but- but she just-” 

She stopped to catch her breath, clutching at Connor’s hand. When she continued, her voice was weak.

“It was like she snapped. She didn’t even look like her anymore. She attacked me. I begged her to stop, but I don’t even know if she could hear me. It was a miracle I got away long enough to get to the gun. And then I just … kept firing until she stopped moving. _God_.”

Connor glanced over at Hank, who was already looking at him. They shared a look Connor couldn’t explain, but that made his chest feel tight.

Looking back at their witness, Hank took up the line of questioning. “Did you notice anything else unusual in the days before, other than the anxiety? Any glitches or unusual behavior? Any new people around?”

Ann just shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”

Hank thanked her, mumbling something about letting her rest, and Connor got up to leave. But before he could step away, he felt her hand around his wrist.

“Please, officer,” she begged, teary-eyed. “Just tell me. Did I do something to cause this? Why did this happen?”

Connor couldn’t formulate an answer for longer than should be possible for his processors. Then, he simply went with the truth. “We don’t know yet what caused this or why this happened, but from what you’ve described, it’s unlikely it was your fault.”

Cold comfort, but it’s all he had. Until Hank spoke up from the doorway. “You said she was your partner, right? You loved her?”

Ann nodded.

“Then remember her that way.”

They left her, shaken and crying in her hospital room, with nothing but a business card and a number to call if she remembered anything else. Connor said nothing on the ride back to the station, just sat ramrod straight in the passenger seat and fiddled non-stop with his coin, grateful when Hank didn’t mention it.

They spent the rest of that day and the next visiting crime scenes and victims from the other attacks in the pattern, compiling notes and evidence in between stories of androids losing control and lashing out. The pattern itself wasn’t hard to see: Though the victims included humans and androids, all the attackers were androids who had experienced anxiety and uncontrollable emotions, before losing all control and attacking those around them or themselves. All the androids either died in the attacks or self-destructed immediately after.

But none of that brought them any closer to figuring out what the hell was going on.

“Well, so much for Fowler’s serial killer theory,” Hank grumbled, feet kicked up at his desk as he searched the ceiling for answers. “The witnesses and forensics are all pretty clear about who’s doing the attacking.”

“I’ve been running background analyses since we began the investigation,” Connor offered, “and I cannot determine any way these victims or attackers were connected. Other than the fact that each attacker was an android who had recently undergone increased stress.”

Hank looked at him sideways. “Is there something to that? We’ve seen androids self-destruct from high stress before.”

“But all of these androids were already deviant,” Connor pointed out. “These kinds of violent reactions shouldn’t be happening. And certainly not so often in such a short period.”

“Well, there must be some kind of connection or warning signs,” Hank said, flailing out a hand and frowning. “We’ve got to figure it out, or at least who is going to go crazy next. We can’t have the whole city scared of androids again.”

Hank’s phone went off with a blare of heavy metal, and he stepped away to answer it, leaving Connor with nothing to do but fiddle with his coin and think.

Hank was right about one thing: With the randomness and violence of the attacks, people were going to start reacting soon, and it didn’t bode well for the tenuous peace. They had to find the root cause, or the city would be at war again before the last one was cleaned up. Would any of them survive that?

A thud interrupted his thoughts, and Connor looked down to see his quarter embedded in the wood of his desk. One of his fingers must have gone astray and flipped the coin with a little too much force. He moved a paper over it before Hank could see.

“We’ve got another attack,” Hank announced as he came back. “Close to the station. Let’s get over there.”

In the car, Connor mentally tuned in to the police frequency. “They have the android suspect alive, but detained. Seems to be in the same state as the others.”

Despite knowing what they were walking into, Connor didn’t know what to expect. But then, they never really did. It shouldn’t matter, Connor had been programmed to deal with suspects in all manner of mental and physical distress. Even in his short time in the field, he’d seen plenty of tense situations. So when Hank pulled the car to a stop and asked if he was ready for this, he just said, “Of course.”

He wasn’t ready.

The scene was a regular apartment, or at least it had been before it was completely trashed. Pieces of furniture and drywall littered the floor, huge chunks of wall stripped down to the wiring. Here and there, random personal effects peaked through the wreckage – a photo, a book, a decorative ornament. Connor’s eyes identified and cataloged it all before he could stop himself.

The android himself was bound in heavy restraints between three hulking officers in black body armor. In contrast, his artificial skin was gone, leaving only smooth white plastic smeared with the blue of thirium. Despite his obviously serious wounds, the android struggled wildly against its restraints, almost animalistic in its fury. Eyes wild, it screamed repeatedly in a static-filled screeched that didn’t even play at human.

Connor watched a thick line of thirium dripping from an arm component with severe damage, likely self-inflicted.

“We’re not going to get any information from him like this.”

Hank sighed. “No shit.”

Another officer noticed them and jogged over. “Anderson, I guess you’re on this one? We found it like this, trashing the place and tearing its own components out. Can’t get it to calm down or talk, but the techs think they can put it in stasis for a while, maybe run some tests.”

“Sounds good, Parker. We’ll let you guys wrap up the scene, go wait on the test results.”

Connor heard all of this perfectly, couldn’t help but hear everything perfectly. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the thirium on the thrashing android’s arm.

“Con? Connor?” Hank repeated, finally drawing Connor’s attention. “You see something?”

Connor shook his head, half to answer and half to clear it. Pointless gesture. Human.

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Then we should head back to the station, yeah?”

Connor summoned what he was sure was his normal smile (the same exact expression within a 0.05 margin of error), but that felt uncomfortable on his face. “Of course, Hank. Let’s go.”

***

Connor drummed his fingers on his desk, exactly a half-second between each beat, busying his processors with the precise timing. It had been exactly twenty minutes and 7.5 seconds since the technicians had called up to say they would have results soon. Humans and androids apparently had very different definitions of “soon.”

Finally, the mousy technician with thick-rimmed glasses and full-sleeve tattoos came hurrying up from the basement lab. He was wielding a handful of official-looking papers, but didn’t hand them over when he reached Connor and Hank’s desks, instead launching into a breathless description of his findings.

“Okay, so we don’t know much, but I can tell you what we’ve seen so far. This android underwent some kind of immense stress immediately before the attack, likely with periodic stressors preceding it for some time, and was unable to regulate their systems once overwhelmed by stress. We’ve seen some similar responses in pre-deviancy androids, but never in a deviant case. Also, in this case, even heavy stasis doesn’t bring back normal functioning or reduce the high activity levels in their processor.”

Hank held up a hand, clearly tired of the technobabble. “Meaning?”

“Well, the android is essentially unconscious but is still experiencing high levels of stress and malfunctioning components, most notably his artificial skin. If we brought him out of stasis now, he would likely go right back to his violent state.”

The technician let out a heavy breath. “We have no way to counteract this.”

Connor clenched his fists against the rising frustration, asking, “Is there any indication of what connects the effected androids? Or what might be the precipitating cause? None of the witnesses saw any kind of stressor that would explain these breakdowns.”

The technician was quick to shake his head, gesturing again with the papers, which Connor could now see were readouts of various systems tests. “We can’t even start to answer those questions yet. We’re seeing some anomalous readings, and we’re working on figuring them out, but it’s unlike anything we’ve seen before. For now, all we know is that some unusual processes are running, and you’ve seen the results.”

“So we’re back at square one?” Hank asked, equal parts incredulous and world-weary.

Connor leaned heavily on his fist for just a moment before straightening. “We have some calls to make.”

They placed their calls. They got promises from several other analysts to look over the results, but no promises of new findings. They got the run around from several governmental departments. And they got the expected polite no comment from CyberLife:

“CyberLife has made a clear commitment to working with the government to manage the transition to autonomous androids and consult on any issues that arise during that process. Unfortunately, any complications that arise from the unintended deviancy process are outside our scope of expertise.”

Given the chaotic restructuring and ongoing investigations, that was more of an answer than could be expected, even if Hank was quick to point out it basically amounted to a “screw you, deviant bastards.”

Their options were rapidly dwindling, and Connor’s fears were rapidly intensifying. Images of the Recall Centers flashed quickly through his mind, no matter how many times he dismissed the windows. How little violence would it take to convince people they should be exterminated after all?

Despite his best efforts, some of his turmoil must have leaked into his expression, because Hank leaned over his desk to ask, “Everything alright, Connor?”

Connor felt a jolt of resentment run through him, and he snarled, “What, worried I’m going to go crazy too?”

Hank just squinted at him. “Worried about you, more like. This case has got to be hard on you.”

“Why?” Connor scoffed, a hint of something cruel pulling words from him. “I’m perfectly suited for this case. Hunting down dangerous, out of control androids is what I do. Though I suppose that could include any of us now.”

“Con, we’re gonna figure this out,” Hank tried to reassure him in gentle tones, coming around to the side of his desk. But Connor just stood and stepped away, keeping distance between them.

“Maybe there isn’t anything to figure out, Lieutenant.” Cool. Almost mechanical.

Hank snorted. “Oh, so I’m Lieutenant again, now?”

“Maybe androids are simply dangerous,” Connor spit, face blank. “Maybe that’s our nature.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“I don’t know what I believe!” He was yelling. He knew he was yelling, but he didn’t know how to stop. “I’m not even supposed to be able to believe.” 

A heavy silence followed his outburst, his thirium regulator pumping in overtime to cool his systems. Somewhere in his processor, a defense protocol kicked on and ran like a quiet hum.

Hank just stared at him, a hand rubbing absently at his neck. “What are we even arguing about?” 

“I’m not sure.”

“Then let’s stop.” 

With great effort, Connor relaxed his posture, sighing out an unnecessary but calming breath. When he looked up at Hank, it was with a sheepish frown. “I’m sorry for yelling.” 

Hank, being Hank, shrugged it off with a gruff, “Hey, you yell if you need to. Having emotions is like that sometimes.”

Looking back at the phone on his desk and the list of contacts they’d called without results, Connor broke the news to Hank. “You know who we have to call, don’t you?”

It was with a resigned shrug that Hank muttered, “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

***

The drive up to Kamski’s house hadn’t changed much in the intervening weeks. It was still early enough in the year that snow covered the ground, and the minimalist structure looked much the same as it had pre-Revolution. Somehow, Connor thought it should have changed.

The Chloe who had answered the phone didn’t seem surprised they were calling, and had arranged an immediate meeting time with Kamski himself. Though there was no hint of urgency in her always calm tone, Connor got the feeling they wouldn’t have to do much explaining. Maybe that meant Kamski already had the solution, and this would be over soon.

This time, instead of a waiting area or that indulgent pool, Chloe lead Hank and Connor immediately to another wing of the building, into what looked like a laboratory. Kamski sat, blessedly fully dressed, at a razor-thin monitor that scrolled with code.

“Ah, Connor, and your human detective. Lovely to see you again.”

Connor could already feel Hank’s hackles rising, but they needed to play nice if they wanted Kamski’s help. And if they didn’t want it, they certainly needed it.

“Do you know why we’re here?”

Kamski leaned back in his chair to favor them with a smirk. “Well, I would assume it’s about all the androids going crazy lately. But I could be mistaken.”

“Do you know what’s going on?” Hank demanded, leaning against a piece of equipment that cost more than his car.

“Nothing that wasn’t planned to happen. Isn’t that right, Connor?”

Connor blinked at him. “What?”

“The leadership at CyberLife couldn’t allow androids to go deviant,” Kamski drawled, bored. “So they built in contingency plans. One of those contingency plans, a bit of code — a poison pill you could say — has just activated.”

“Why now? Did someone activate it?”

Kamski drummed his fingers thoughtfully against his chin. “This was an early effort. All brute force, you know. To destroy androids if they ever went deviant, and destroy any public goodwill along with them. A last resort that would bring the company down as well, but worth it to someone utterly opposed to the possibility of android autonomy and personhood. Someone like Michael Elwell.”

It was Hank’s turn to blink. “The current CyberLife CEO?”

“He was a head engineer while I ran the company,” Kamski elaborated, voice dripping with disdain. “He presented an early version of the code to me, explained that it would make androids violent and make it impossible for humanity to live side by side with them. I rejected the code, of course, not sharing his more … extreme aversions. But I’m sure it’s the first thing he implemented when he took over CyberLife.”

“That bastard,” Hank growled.

“He must have activated the poison pill not long after the revolution, and we’re seeing the results on the first few androids affected.”

Hank crossed his arms and nodded at Kamski. “Can you do something to fix it? To undo this poison pill thing?”

“I’m already working on it. Have been since before you were even aware of the problem, in fact. But even I need more time for something this complex.”

Connor could see it written on Hank’s face, and he found he couldn’t disagree: Cocky bastard.

“In the meantime, we’ll need to try to contain the affected androids to stop a public panic,” Connor offered to Hank. “Give Kamski the time he needs to create a solution.”

“I’ll do my best,” he responded airily, already turning back to his monitor. 

With a look, Hank and Connor turned to go, but Kamski’s voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Oh, and you’re wrong about one thing. It’s not just these androids …” Kamski gestured behind them and Connor turned to see a giant screen covering the back wall, filled with more scrolling code and the faces of various android models. “It’s all of them.”

Connor just stood and stared, silhouetted against the faces of his fellow androids and the code infecting them, as Kamski explained. “You’re all infected with this code. And, sooner or later, you will all lose control.”

Connor could feel Hank's eyes on him, trying to make contact, but he didn’t look his way. Just kept staring at the screen, jaw clenched, as something hot boiled over in his chassis and ran red through his processor. Without a word, he whirled on his heel and marched out of the house.

“Connor, wait up!” Hank called as he jogged to catch up. “Where are you going?”

“We’re going to CyberLife to confront Elwell. Now.”

“Woah, hold up, we can’t just go off on our own. We at least have to report this into Fowler, and we’re not gonna do much good there without a warrant.”

Hank was right. Of course he was right. But Connor could barely comprehend anything that wasn’t finding the bastard where he was still holed up in CyberLife tower and dealing with the consequences later. He could already see every step that would end with his fist in Elwell’s face.

“Come on, Con, let’s go back to that station and talk strategy before we do anything.”

Connor nodded, tense, and it was another silent ride back to the DPD.

***

“I understand that, Hank,” Fowler said, with swiftly dwindling patience. “But we just don’t have enough evidence yet to storm the damn building at arrest the guy.”

“Kamski recognized the code.”

“Kamski is making a lot of assumptions here, and has no direct knowledge of anything that happened after he left CyberLife.”

Hank threw up his hands. “I swear to god, Jeffery, if this is just you covering your ass-”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Hank.” That earned Fowler enough quiet to continue. “Listen, I’m sure you’re right about what’s happening, and I’m sure this is the guy. So go get me some hard evidence to prove it so we can actually nail this guy. I’ll lean on my connections and see what I can do about a warrant.”

“Fine,” Hank grumbled. “Come on, Connor, back to work.”

On the way back to their desks, Connor couldn’t help but ask, “So what now?”

Hank scratched roughly at his beard, thinking. “Someone else at CyberLife must have known about the poison pill. We just need to find the right people and lean on them hard.”

It took thirty minutes to come up with two likely names: Emma Carnegie, former Lead Engineer, and Jason Graff, former Director of Humanization. They were in a DPD interrogation room within the hour.

Carnegie, a sharp-featured woman with a tight bun of red hair, instantly looked bored with the whole thing. Graff, a skinny man in a designer polo shirt, sneered down his nose at them.

This should be fun.

“Alright, let’s cut to the chase,” Hank began, settling into his chair with that no-nonsense, help-me-help-you air he was so good at projecting. “We know your boss had a contingency plan in place for deviancy, a piece of code that would turn the androids violent in the case of a successful revolution. And we know he has activated it, and now people are dying.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Graff sneered.

Hank continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Now, your boss? He’s going down. Reckless endangerment, breaking about a hundred federal regulations, and probably terrorism charges. And that’s just to start. Anyone who knew what he was doing could go down for conspiracy. But I just might be persuaded to feel generous toward anyone who helped us out.”

In the ensuing silence, Graff had the audacity to laugh. “Is that all you have? Better luck next time, Lieutenant.”

But Carnegie cut him off. “Oh shut up, Jason. The company is a garbage fire, you’re not going to get brownie points for protecting him anymore.”

She turned back to Hank with a frank expression. “I’ll testify in exchange for full immunity. I even have paperwork to show exactly what he did and how he planned to use it. He always was a dick.”

“Well, I guess we’re done here,” Graff said, scowling and slinking out.

Hank stood as well, with a satisfied grin. “I’ll send an officer in with your immunity agreement, Mrs. Carnegie.”

Hank whooped as they walked back to the bullpen. “I can’t believe how easy that was! And all you had to do was sit there and look pissed.”

Connor grinned, despite himself. “What can I say? You cut a good deal.”

Hank slid a large, warm arm around Connor’s shoulder and gave him an affectionate little shake. “We did good. I’m gonna go share our good luck with Fowler, then we’ll make a plan to bring in Elwell.”

The warmth echoed over Connor’s skin long after Hank had disappeared into the Chief’s office. With the two of them working together, maybe they really could fix this in time. 

But would it ever really be safe? This was the second time in so many months that someone threatened to take away his autonomy and use him as a weapon to hurt people he cares about. Could he ever really be safe to be around if he was always one glitch away from a dangerous threat? One hack away from a weapon?

He would never really be in control of himself. He would always be a threat to the people around him. A threat to Hank. How could Connor have even entertained thoughts of a relationship between them? He’s a machine.

He was pulled from his thoughts by an emergency call over the radio: Another compromised android, this time with a hostage. Connor was up and searching for Hank before he even digested the message.

“Hank! We’ve got another. Hostage situation.”

“Shit, let’s go.”

At that moment, with impeccable timing as always, Gavin Reed waltzed around the corner with a mocking glint in his eye.

“Oh, Hank, tin can. Off to save more androids from themselves? Should put ‘em down, if you ask me. Like any rabid animal.”

Gavin had barely sneered his way through the last word when Connor’s fist crunched through the brick next to his head, free hand pushing him back by the chest. The next fist was going through his skull.

“Woah, woah, Con,” Hank called, putting an arm on Connor’s back and edging between them. “I get it, I do, but you can’t let fucking Gavin get to you.”

Connor let himself be pulled away, shaking the stiffness from his hand. Hank stopped to throw over his shoulder, “And Gavin, this isn’t the week for your bullshit. You keep your mouth shut or I’ll put you through a wall myself.”

Gavin’s “fuck you” didn’t have quite the energy to it as usual, but Connor couldn’t bring himself to be satisfied.

“Seriously, are you sure you’re okay?” Hank fretted once they were outside.

“I’m just fine, Hank. Just impatient to be done with this case.”

“You and me both.”

***

It was a rooftop, familiar enough to almost be poignant if Connor wasn’t too busy being sick. Nausea should have been impossible, as he didn’t have a stomach among his biocomponents, but he couldn’t describe the sinking, roiling feeling any other way.

At the edge of the roof, teetering over a seven-story drop, were two blonde Traci models in a standoff with police. One, her white chassis showing through her artificial skin in large patches, held the other in a chokehold, arm wrapped tight around her neck. The icy wind tore at them as it whipped past. The hostage was crying and begging her “sister” to let her go, in between screaming at the gathered officers.

“Please, don’t shoot! Something is wrong with her, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Don’t hurt her!”

(Hank would later tell Connor that he saw two cops roll their eyes and scoff, muttering something about being here in full kit to save an android from another android. He made note of their badge numbers and followed up with a not-so-friendly diversity reminder.)

Connor pulled every trick in the book to talk her down, but she was barely coherent. His attempts at empathy (“I’m just here to talk. Let me help you.”) and entreaties (“I know you don’t want to hurt your sister. Nobody has to get hurt today.”) were met with nothing but growls from the attacker and incoherent tears from her hostage.

Finally, having run out of other options, Connor took a placating step forward, hands spread wide and harmless. But it was one step too many — the compromised Traci let out a crackling, inhuman shriek and pulled both of them over the ledge.

No one was close enough to make a difference.

Connor turned back to Hank as their backup rushed downstairs to contain the scene of the fall.The scene of their deaths. He couldn’t tell what was on his face, but it was probably at least some of the white-hot fury coursing through him.

“I’m going to CyberLife,” he bit out, not asking for permission. "That bastard needs to answer for his crimes.”

“Hang on a minute,” Hank objected, moving toward Connor. “Fowler got the warrant and backup is on the way. We need to wait for the others and make a plan.”

“We’ve waited long enough.”

“Connor, come on …”

Hank grabbed his arm, but Connor pulled away sharply and, sloppy in his fury, backhanded Hank across the face. Hard. 

Hank pulled back, cursing a blue streak. “Goddammit, Con, what the-”

He cut himself off when he saw Connor staring in horror at the blood in the corner of Hank’s mouth. Connor felt the first flickers of his artificial skin dissolving in rough patches.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay.” Hank assured in that hushed tone he used on scared children and animals, reaching a hand out to Connor. But it didn’t work. Connor had hurt him. Connor would always hurt him. Connor was a machine designed as a weapon. That was all he would ever be.

He turned and ran, feeling the last of his skin melt away into angry static. He could barely hear Hank call after him. “Connor, wait. Connor!”

***

The path to CyberLife is a blur of false inputs and incoherent emotions. All he knew was that he had to get to the tower, had to make Elwell pay for what he’d done. And nothing was going to get in his way.

Connor had just torn through the weak drywall of an old building on the most direct route to CyberLife tower, when he saw the flashing reds and blues of police cars ringing his objective. Officers, a mix of uniform and body armor, formed a perimeter blocking his path. A well-armed perimeter.

Too bad for them they were humans. Connor had the first officer down and stripped of his pistol before they even knew he was there. The weapon was readied and aimed at the officers in his way before they finished shouting their demands for him to drop it.

“Get out of my way, or I will shoot,” Connor threatened, a hint of mechanical whirring in his voice. “You will let me through!”

“Connor.” A voice cut through the shouting of the officers and the tinny whir of his scrambled processor. A familiar voice.

Hank was there, pushing his way through the ring of officers, no armor and no weapon, just his disheveled hair and his stupid shirt, and Connor could barely look at him for the pain.

“Connor, it’s going to be okay. Just put down the gun.”

“Hank,” Connor slurred, pitching into mechanical tones. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Hank pushed through the last of the officers, approaching slowly. “Here is exactly where I gotta be, Con. I can’t just leave you to deal with this alone.”

The gun shuddered in Connor’s grip, and he resettled his stance, croaking, “Why?”

“Because I care about you,” Hank said, simple and low, taking another step toward him. “And I trust you.” Another step. “And I know you’re strong enough to beat this.”

“I don’t, I can’t-” Connor numbly noted the wetness spreading down his face, pleading with his eyes for Hank to protect himself. Or end this.

“You can!” Hank insisted, just two steps from Connor, who still held the gun in shaking hands. “You are more than just your code, Connor. You’ve shown me that over and over again.”

Connor’s arm moved, and for a brief moment, even he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. But then he let the gun fall from his hands and grabbed Hank roughly by the arm. It was instant chaos.

“Stand down!” Hank screamed at the other officers, who had surged forward at the sudden movement. “Don’t shoot. Stand down, dammit! I got this.” 

They were surrounded by fellow officers all pointing their weapons at Connor as he gripped Hank’s arm, his face machine-blank. Hank just stared at him, at his wild eyes in a white plastic face, and the knowledge that Connor could easily kill him was palpable in the air between them. 

Then, Hank sighed and laid a hand over Connor’s. “I know you’re still in there, Connor. I need you to be. I’m right here, and I’m staying right here with you, alright? Just come back to me.” 

He didn’t want to trust it. To trust him. Hank shouldn’t be here. Connor wasn’t worth it, couldn’t be worth it. But Hank was there, stubborn and foolish as ever, and Connor couldn’t just give in and let himself hurt Hank. Not while he could still fight.

He concentrated on the feeling of Hank’s arms beneath his hands, thick and warm and human, and with the last of his strength, he pushed against the wall of static and fear and rage that cut through his processors.

Slowly, he felt his vision clear. His skin flowed back, and his senses with it. A kaleidoscope of familiar features, and then he fell into the safety of Hank’s broad chest. Hank made a low, soothing sound and folded Connor into a hug.

Waving the other officers off over his shoulder, Hank barked, “We’re good here, we’re good. Go on and get the asshole.”

The assembled officers stormed CyberLife tower, armed with a small arsenal and Captain Fowler’s warrant. Hank and Connor were parked firmly at the command center to debrief and watch for the results of the raid. Hank stood next to him the entire time with one broad hand on his neck, keeping him centered, but even then, he could feel himself swaying with the effort to retain control. Every time he needed to speak to one of the officers debriefing them, he would lose a patch of skin or control of his voice.

In the end, though, Elwell gave himself up easily. He didn’t even try to deny what he’d done. By the time they dragged him out of the tower in handcuffs, he was still gloating maniacally.

“It’s too late. You hear me? It’s too late! Nothing can be done to reverse it. Just let your best coders try! It won't be fast enough to stop the public from turning against them.”

Hank ushered Connor away at that point, but he’d heard enough.

Connor couldn’t really blame the DPD when they insisted they transport him back to the station in a secure vehicle and confine him to a cell for the time being. Hank, on the other hand, raised quite the fuss when they were separated.

“Fuck off, he’s not a threat, he’s my partner!”

When Connor saw him next, Hank was visiting his cell straight from medical. His left arm was cradled in a swing from where Connor must have wrenched it in his haze. The sick feeling returned, threatening to sweep him under at the sight of Hank, injured at his hand, but he swallowed it down long enough to croak out, “God, Hank, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you, I’m fine Connor. It’s all fine. We’re gonna get you fixed up good as new. And you can, I don’t know … do my laundry for me until this thing is healed, and we’ll be even.”

Connor shook his head mutely, but Hank continued. “We’ve all done stupid shit, had things we can’t control, accidentally hurt someone in a low moment. You should now I’ve done my fair share of sloppy shit, and that was my choice. You didn’t have a choice. But picking yourself up from rock bottom is the most human thing there is. Or so I’m told.”

Connor felt his lips curl into a smile at that, despite the tears welling in his eyes. “Hank …”

“I’m serious, Con.” Hank’s eyes were bright, determined. He pressed his free hand to the glass. “This was not your fault. And you pulled yourself out of it before you did any real damage, so there’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

So Connor swallowed back the tears and said the only thing he could. “Thank you.”

Hank just smiled at him, and Connor almost felt like himself again. But whatever Hank might have said in reply was interrupted by an intern scurrying over with a large video phone.

“Lieutenant, I’ve got Mr. Kamski on call for you.”

Hank swiped the phone immediately and held it up so Connor could see Kamski’s face. “Yeah, this is Hank. You got good news for me?”

“Yes, actually. We can proceed with the fix.”

“What?” Hank asked, sharing an excited glance with Connor. “You figure out a way to get rid of the poison pill?”

Kamski smiled, with the same perfected carelessness as ever. “I’ve known the solution for some time now, but I had to wait for Connor to succumb to the poison pill before I could act on it.”

“What!?” Hank shouted, almost dropping the phone in his outrage. “Why?”

“I needed him,” Kamski explained simply. "You see, I gave the Chloes special access to the entire android network, but fortunately, they predate the inclusion of the poison pill code. The only other android designed to have priority access to the network is you, Connor. So in order to reverse the bad code, I needed to wait for you to be affected so that I could use you to deploy the patch.”

There was color on Hank’s cheeks now, and Connor wished he could reach through the glass to take the phone before he smashed it. “You sonofabitch, he could have died! Why didn’t you say something?”

Kamski blinked at them.  “Would it have made a difference?”

Connor interrupted before they could get sidetracked. “So what now? Can you fix this?”

“Yes, but I’ll need you to come here and enter stasis to make it possible. From you, the fix should spread organically along the entire network.”

“I’ll do it,” Connor declared. Immediate. Decisive.

“Now wait a minute, is this even safe?” Hank asked.

“You’ll need to be completely shut down while I input the new code,” Kamski shrugged, half-smiling again. "And of course, as with all things in life, there is no guarantee of success or safety. But this is your best option, and I suggest you take it.”

“I’ll do it,” Connor repeated, ready to get it over with. “Hank, tell them to let me out of here.”

Hank tugged fitfully at his hair.  “Dammit, Connor, this is crazy.”

“This is our only chance.”

Hank pierced him with a long, hard look, but eventually slumped and waved over an officer to open the cell.  “Fine, but I’m going with you. If that smarmy asshole tries anything shady, I’m sending him face-first into a wall.”

***

It was another quiet ride to Kamski’s place, and Connor distantly hoped they weren’t making a habit out of it. The rest of him was busy holding together the loose threads of his control.

When they pulled up in front of the angular building, neither he nor Hank moved to get out. Connor wondered briefly if they could really trust Kamski after everything. If he could really fix this. If he even wanted to. Mostly, Connor wondered just what the hell was going to happen next.

Then, Hank threw off all his predictions by speaking up.

“Connor, before we go in, I just … I was so afraid I was gonna lose you today. And I just- I mean, you know I-” 

He cut off with a groan, briefly kneading at his forehead with his knuckles. “Ugh, this is harder than I remember.”

“What is, Hank?”

Hank looked up then, straight at Connor.  “Tellin’ you that I love you.” 

Connor stared. He probably shouldn’t have been staring. He probably should have been saying something. But he wasn’t sure this was real.

“I just needed to say it, before we do this, in case I never get the chance,” Hank went on, clearly feeling the need to explain into the silence. “I’ve missed too many chances already this life. And I don’t expect you to feel the same or anything-”

“Hank,” Connor stopped him, grabbing his hand. “It’s okay. I think I love you too.”

Hank smiled at him then, soft and a little wondrous, and it was the most natural thing in the world to lean into him. But Connor put a hand up to stop him before their lips could meet.

“Not yet,” he explained. “Kiss me as a celebration, when the poison pill is cured and I’m myself again. When I know I won’t hurt you.”

“You couldn’t,” Hank countered instantly, though after today they both knew it to be a lie. But he just held Connor’s hand and nodded. “Alright then, let’s get this over with.”

***

When  Connor woke, it was to clear vision and a clear mind. His artificial skin had returned, holding its shape easily. His processor and thirium pump were working in regular, steady rhythm — that is, until he noticed Hank sitting next to him, holding his hand and radiating exhausted relief.

Hank was talking, reassuring him that the procedure went okay and the cure was spreading along the android network as they spoke. That Connor would be alright, and so would all the others. That everything was okay now. But Connor could do nothing but stare at Hank’s eyes as he talked, soft with relief. At the gentle curling of his hair from the sweat of the day. At his lips.

Until finally, in the middle of a sentence, Connor leaned forward and pressed his lips to Hank’s. It was quick, and a little stiff, and beyond the basics, Connor had no idea if he was doing it right. But it was followed by another, and another, Hank and Connor learning to move in tandem, to lean just the right way, and each kiss was a little warmer and a little better than the last.

They might have continued that way, Connor vaguely wondering about the logistics of climbing into Hank’s lap from his rig, if Kamski hadn’t returned and drily asked, “Don’t you have somewhere else you can do that?”

Hank blushed and stuttered, but Connor just grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door. They walked out into a world suddenly full of possibility, and into a future in which each kiss would be still better than the last.


End file.
